


Mimicry

by WishUponADragon



Category: Alex Rider - Anthony Horowitz
Genre: Canon typical spy recruitment ethics, Kidnapping, M/M, Spy!Tom, actually he’s just mean but Tom is very stressed, he’s had a long day and he has no friends so you can imagine the kind of stress he’s under, julius is homophobic, post-torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 02:33:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28681149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WishUponADragon/pseuds/WishUponADragon
Summary: Alex isn’t himself recently. Tom would be willing to ignore it, except he can’t help but draw the conclusion that Alex really isn’t Alex.
Relationships: Tom Harris/Alex Rider
Comments: 10
Kudos: 59





	Mimicry

Alex had told Tom before that an uncanny sense of unidentifiable danger had saved his life more than once. Tom had chalked it up to some spy superpower he’d inherited along with the Rider name, so he was especially surprised to feel the discomfort of goosebumps along his neck and the sudden taste of wrongness in his mouth and recognize these things as the sensation that his best friend had recounted to him earlier. 

Tom looked around the classroom, at once tuning out the biology lesson. A quick scan of the rooftops across the river showed them to be devoid of snipers, and no camera lens glinted from the decks of the few passing boats. Tom brought his attention closer to himself. Nothing in class seemed out of place. The same students as always were falling asleep and the same students as always were vying to impress their teacher with the fact they’d read ahead. 

He turned to Alex to whisper whether he’d seen anything unusual when the feelings hit him again, the redoubling having a definite source this time. Something was wrong with Alex. 

Tom blinked and looked away before he was caught staring. He tried to think through the sudden claws of panic gripping at his brain. Had Alex been wrong all day? There was nothing physically out of place, not a single hair or freckle was slightly different than it was the day before. His voice then? Almost. It was the same sound, Tom knew that, same accent and tone and same slightly clipped way of speaking he’d picked up after the first catastrophe. 

He was too tense. That was it. Maybe he had noticed something wrong then, maybe they should be working together to fix it- Tom discarded the idea. No. Something was wrong with Alex. He just had to think it through. 

He hadn’t remembered their specific spot on the bike rack, fourth and fifth places from the left, the perfect place to avoid the cliche of boys who dominated the football field after school- they’d used to include Alex, back before his spotless reputation had anything worse than spending time with Tom on it- and just close enough to the building that as the day wore on the shadow of the school would keep the metal from heating. He’d picked the sixth, where they both knew Kyle was going to whine about his preferred place being taken- it was the closest spot one could get to Aiysha and her friends without being accused of trying to speak to them. 

He’d picked up a bottle of milk in the cafeteria. The milk at their school was disgusting, the flat watery kind that cats wouldn’t touch if you left it out. Alex had taken a sip and wrinkled his nose. Tom had laughed at him. He should have known, the milk hadn’t changed since first year after all. He should have known. Should have remembered. His extracurricular work shouldn’t have given him amnesia this specific. 

It wasn’t just the forgetting though. Tom was pretty sure he could have ignored that, and had up until now. Alex was excited about something, but not in his usual way. Alex’s normal excitement was subdued, easily covered until they were off of school grounds and free to play whatever video game Tom had begged off his parents the day before. Normally when Alex was happy he simply lit up, and Tom would almost swear he could measure it in lumens. It was part of what had made Alex popular when they were younger, this easy way he had of infecting others with his own happiness. It was part of what Tom loved about him. 

This was what was wrong. Alex was excited, unable to keep a grin off his face, but it was too tight, stuffed with too many secrets. He was more like a man behind enemy lines than Tom’s best friend, finally safely within the walls of their school again. He was practically vibrating, his eyes constantly going to the clock in the wall. Yeah. Something was very wrong with Alex. 

Tom’s mind flew back to the fire in the science wing, the one that had made them build the new one they were sitting in now. Alex said the copy Grief had made of him died in that fire. But what if he hadn’t? 

What if he was sitting next to him, fidgeting with Alex’s pen and wearing Alex’s clothes? 

The more Tom sat with the idea, the more sure he was. All of the little things that hadn’t been adding up, they fit this picture. He had to be sure though. 

Tom struggled to keep his breathing even and the rapid beat of his heart unapparent. He needed a way to be sure. Alex and the double looked the same, but that was as of almost a year ago. Since then, Alex had been in countless dangerous situations and had landed himself in the hospital so much Tom was almost jealous of how much time the nurses were spending with him. The double would have different scars than Alex. 

Which was the easiest to check? Not the biggest one, the reentry burns down his leg, not the worst, the bullet wound under his shirt. Tom cursed the school uniforms for how little skin they revealed. It was so inconvenient at times like this. 

The tough pale one on his palm, he’d gotten it from the virtual reality game data collection set, an electric burn. The double wouldn’t have it. He glanced over but his hand was curled around the pen he was still fidgeting with in a motion that was eerily reminiscent of sliding a scalpel down the belly of one of the classroom frogs. Tom took a deep breath. This was going to require investigation. 

The bell rang, signaling the end of the second to last class of the day. He and Alex had different math classes, so if he was going to do something before the end of the day- before Alex or not Alex went home to Jack- he’d need to do it now. Tom threw his things in his backpack and summoned every ounce of courage he possessed. 

He followed Alex into the hall, trying not to be jostled off course by the other students. He could do this. It wasn’t a big deal. If it was Alex, he wouldn’t think anything of it, and if it wasn’t, Tom had much bigger problems. He grabbed his hand, trying to act as if this was the most normal thing in the world and not as if he was potentially reaching out for the hand of a cold blooded killer. Alex yanked his hand away, and when Tom turned to look, his face was a mask of disgust and anger. 

Tom walked quickly away, in the direction of his own class. The rejection stung as much as he’d thought it might, but it was absolutely drowned by the fear flooding through every inch of him. There was no scar. That was definitely not Alex. 

Doubt needled at him as he biked away from the school. What if he’d gotten it wrong? Was he really sure it was on the right hand? Yes, he was sure, he’d seen that scar a hundred times, had brushed against it whenever Alex took his Xbox controller or slid him a pencil he hadn’t brought to class. And Alex wouldn’t have looked at him like that. He wouldn’t. 

Which meant that wasn’t Alex. Which meant he’d done something to Alex, and Tom needed to find him. He slowed and stopped at the far end of the bridge. He needed help more than he needed to be away from school and from not Alex. Where should he get that from? Jack, maybe. She’d know what to do. Probably. Tom didn’t bring his hands off the bike handles to brush away the tears running off his face. They were silly, he didn’t even know why they were there. He was fine, he just needed to go get help to find Alex. 

Alex’s house wasn’t far, and Tom made it in record time, though he did almost get hit by a lorry. Jack didn’t answer the door. Tom checked the time on his phone. She wouldn’t be out of school herself. He put the phone away. This was an in person only sort of situation. The double probably knew hacking and things like that. 

But who could he tell? His parents wouldn’t believe him, and if he was being honest with himself they weren’t the best people to go to in a crisis anyways. Alex didn’t have any. The teachers would probably get him locked up in a psych ward. He could wait until Jack came home, but lingering at Alex’s door, the place not Alex would check after his own house, sent an uncontrollable shiver down Tom’s spine. Definitely couldn’t stay here. 

He picked a direction before he could talk himself out of it. He’d followed Alex there once, just out of curiosity. However afraid he was of MI6, it was far outweighed by how afraid he was for Alex. 

Royal and General bank did not have a bike rack. Tom leaned it against the wall outside and hoped no one would steal it. Not that his bike being stolen was exactly top priority at the moment. He wasn’t sure what to do next. He settled for straightening his uniform and walking in the doors as if he was official business. 

None of the tellers were open. Tom picked the shortest line and stood in it, trying not to look like he felt self conscious. He didn’t belong, that could be seen at a glance. He wasn’t even old enough to open an account. 

But Tom gradually noticed that no one was looking at him strangely. Eyes seemed to slide past him on the rare occasion they were cast around the room. Then he noticed his uniform happened to be the same shade of navy as the suit of the man in front of him. Of course. Everyone assumed he was here with his father. The man in front of him hadn’t noticed him at all. Tom let out a shaky breath. So this was why they liked Alex so much. Spying was easy when no one gave you a second glance. 

But then the man in front of him finished his business with the teller and walked away, leaving Tom to speak to her alone. He cleared his throat and thought about trying to make his voice sound deeper, but stopped. Alex wouldn’t have bothered. He was wearing a school uniform after all, and there’s no point in telling a lie if it’s obvious you’re lying. He ran his hand through his hand nervously. 

“I need to talk to whoever’s in charge.” Tom cringed inwardly. That was a bad start. He needed to signal it was about spying. “I would like to pitch a script for Mission Impossible 6.” 

The bank teller blinked at him. “Sir. Are you aware this is a bank? We don’t deal with movie scripts.” 

Okay. So she hadn’t gotten it. Maybe he needed to be less covert. “Right, right. I’m here about an agent.” He paused to see if she got it. 

“We don’t have anything to do with the film industry, I’m sorry, if you’re looking for a director’s agent to talk to I think you have the wrong address.”

He slapped his palm against the counter. “No! I mean. It’s a transporter malfunction. We’re having a The Enemy Within situation here.” He stared at her meaningfully. She stared back in abject confusion. “You know! Seeing double! Parallax!” 

“Are you feeling alright?” The teller had a too calm tone, the kind Batman might use to keep a villain distracted from Robin quietly foiling his plan in the background. Tom whirled around to see a security guard approaching him. 

The guard looked taken aback by Tom noticing him too soon but recovered quickly. “Sir, can I ask you to leave the premises?”

Maybe he could help. Tom tried again. “I need to talk to whoever’s in charge, it’s urgent.” 

The guard’s demeanor didn’t change. “Right. I need you to leave. Am I going to have to escort you out?”

No, no. He had to make them get it. But they didn’t understand his more subtle messages and he didn’t know any real spy code. He had to have some way to convey what this was about. 

The truth was a last ditch attempt, but Tom was desperate. “It’s about Alex Rider.” He caught the flash of recognition on the guard’s face at the name and continued. “I’m his friend at school and something’s wrong and I need to talk to whoever can fix it, please!” 

And then the guard had him by the arm and was dragging him somewhere. “No, I’m not mad, I swear, it’s important!” They weren’t going outside. The guard pulled Tom further into the bank and Tom decided to shut up. He was either getting what he asked for, or he was going to be able to talk to someone else who might believe him. 

The room he was left in almost belonged in a bank. It was tan and beige and ten thousand other words his mom had used picking out furniture that all just meant brown. There was no window. The door locked behind the guard when he left. 

Tom drummed the beat of the song stuck in his head on the surface of the desk, looking around for anything that might give him an idea of whether he was being treated as an insane enemy agent or an informant. There was a camera watching him in the corner but other than it and the table and chairs he was sat at, the room was bare. 

It felt like forever before the door clicked open, but Tom was pretty sure if they were treating him as hostile he would have waited longer. A man entered who reminded Tom of a bird, one of the vultures he’d seen at the zoo with his tired sunken eyes and grey skin. He sat down near Tom. He was holding a file. He opened it and scanned through its contents. 

Tom was suddenly angry. He’d read that before now, he would have been a very bad spy if he waited until he was in the room with Tom to know anything that might be relevant, so there was no point in keeping him waiting. Except to keep him waiting. Tom closed his mouth before he could yell at the man. What purpose did this action serve? 

He was giving Tom a chance to talk without being prodded, and making him nervous by visibly concealing information. Tom pushed the air out of his lungs as if the snakes writing in his stomach would accompany it. “I’m Alex’s friend. Today someone who looks like him was at school. I think it’s the same person who burned down the science hall. I don’t know where Alex is and I’m worried about him.”

The man looked up from the file. “What’s your name?”

“Tom Harris.”

“Mr. Harris. Would you please explain why you believe the person you encountered at school is not Alex Rider?”

Hadn’t he just done that? Tom quashed the rising anger as best he could. He needed help. These people were the only help he could get. “I’m his best friend. I know Alex better than anyone, that wasn’t him.” He took another breath. He’d just go through the evidence again. “Today he put his bike in the wrong spot, and bought the gross milk in the cafeteria, and he didn’t have the rope burn scar on his hand, and he was-“ Tom stopped. 

He sounded completely mental. He’d sound worse if he told him that part of his suspicion was because Alex hadn’t wanted him to hold his hand. He was a secret agent, with PTSD and trauma and of course MI6 wouldn’t think it was weird he was touch adverse since they’d caused it. But Alex was Tom’s best friend, and he was Alex’s only friend other than Jack and this wasn’t normal. Alex was very affectionate, even more so since the missions started, like he needed human touch that he was sure wasn’t going to end with him being hurt. 

Tom didn’t know how to explain that wasn’t just a kid with a crush in denial. That wasn’t Alex, he was sure. But he didn’t know how to convey that. “He wasn’t Alex,” he finished, finally folding his hands together and dropping them to his lap. “I know Alex. That was someone else.”

The man nodded, closed the folder, thanked him, and left. Tom sighed and tipped his chair back. It wasn’t enough to convince them. The more he thought about it, the less it convinced him. Maybe he’d just been wrong. Maybe he’d been tired and miscounted the spots on the bike rack. Maybe the scar was on his left hand. Maybe Alex really didn’t like him at all. 

That didn’t explain the milk. Nope, it was definitely not his friend. Something had happened, and even if he couldn’t get help, Tom was determined to get to the bottom of it. He was glad they were leaving him alone to think of a plan. 

The first thing he’d do would be to tell Jack. She might have already noticed. Together they could overpower the double and make him tell them where Alex was. Tom winced at the thought of hitting him. But it wasn’t Alex. It was his double, and he’d kidnapped the real Alex, and Tom would do whatever he needed to do to get the real one back. As soon as MI6 let him leave. 

The next time the door unlocked, a woman entered, her breath smelling strongly of peppermint. She sat down across from Tom. He sat up straighter almost on instinct. 

“Mr. Harris,” she began. “You believe there is someone impersonating your friend Alex Rider?”

He nodded, suddenly unable to speak. It was as if his tongue were frozen. 

She opened a box and slipped a peppermint into her mouth. “Would you like one?” Tom shook his head, impatient for her to continue. She closed the box and put it away. “Can you tell me how much you know about Julius Grief?” 

Alex hadn’t told him his name, but he knew enough. “That’s the guy that looks like Alex, right? He set the science building on fire. He ruined prom. I thought he died then, but he couldn’t have, because I just saw him.” He paused. “I think he was in Cairo too. Alex gets weird around mirrors sometimes, that only started after that one.” 

The woman nodded, still sucking on the peppermint. “I think you’re pretty well up to date then. Alex shot him in Cairo. Apparently he survived.” 

“You believe me?” Tom couldn’t help the exclamation. He cupped his head in his hands, tears springing to his eyes for a reason he couldn’t identify. “Oh, god, I thought you thought I was crazy.”

The woman cleared her throat awkwardly. “No, I do not think you’re crazy, Mr. Harris. However, we have a very serious problem, and I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask for your help.”

Tom looked up at her. “Me?”

She nodded seriously. “Yes. You. As of right now, you are the only person we have with an established reason to be around Julius. Any agent we put in the field will rouse his suspicion. If Alex is still alive, that would put him in danger.”

That was almost too much for Tom to process.  _ If? _ No, Alex was fine. Held captive, sure, hurt, probably. He’d survived worse. He couldn’t be dead. And Tom absolutely couldn’t be the only person who could find him. He shook his head before he felt the words tumbling out of his mouth. “No, just, go pick him up. Ask him. I know you have a torture chamber around somewhere, Alex told me you had this weird test you did before started using him. Just use that!”

The woman raised an eyebrow at him and it occurred to Tom that that particular bit of information might have been classified. She bit down on the peppermint. Tom shifted uncomfortably. He wanted to point out that he’d be a terrible spy, this slip proved it, but he felt like she’d shot that explanation down. After all, he’d gotten classified information out of one of her agents. 

“What you’re referring to is called resistance to interrogation training. Unfortunately, it’s probable that Julius Grief has been through this training as well. If we’re going to find Alex, we won’t be able to force the information out of him.” She sighed. Tom didn’t like how casually she was using the word ‘we.’ “I’m very sorry. I wouldn’t ask you if it wasn’t an absolute necessity. But no one else in the world has a chance.”

“So, you want me to, what, make friends with him?” Tom didn’t know if he could do that. This boy had possibly killed Alex. He didn’t want to even see him again. 

“No.” The woman shook her head. “Julius is aware that you’re already a friend of Alex. Keep up that pretense for as long as he will. Follow him, find where he’s holding Alex, and alert us. You don’t have to do any more than that.” 

She made it sound so easy, but Tom was overwhelmed by how impossible it was going to be. Julius was a trained killer he had to pretend to be lifelong friends with. And to make matters worse... “There’s a problem,” he said before he could stop himself. “I- I think I might have messed that up already.” The woman said nothing and he went on. “I was trying to find out for sure if he was Alex or not, so I tried to hold his hand so I could feel the scar there. He- he reacted badly. I don’t know if he’ll still want to see me. Can’t you ask Jack?”

She nodded slowly. “I’ll see if we can get in touch with her. In the meantime, try. Just behave however you would if he was really Alex, at the very least to keep him from becoming suspicious and moving or harming Alex. You’d try to remain friends if it was Alex who did that, wouldn’t you?”

Tom’s voice caught in his throat. “I- I don’t know? Alex wouldn’t. I guess so?” 

She nodded. “Good. Here. We had this made for Alex, but it looks like you’ll need it first.” She held out a small torch on a keychain. Tom took it. It was lighter than it looked, but didn’t look like anything special. There was no logo printed on it. “It’s a tracking device. If you’re unable to reach a phone to call the bank- ask for Tulip Jones instead of whatever wild nonsense you were spouting at Teresa- press the light bulb down and that will activate the signal.”

Tom looked up at her. “You mean if Julius kidnaps me. It’s a distress signal.” He thought back to a few of Alex’s complaints about the agency. “Will you come?”

“Of course.”

He hesitated. “That would tip him off.”

“Yes. It would.”

He drummed his fingers against the device. “We wouldn’t be able to find Alex then.”

“Probably not.”

Tom shivered. He was starting to understand why Alex hated this so much. If he got himself out of danger, he’d lose his best friend. This shouldn’t have been his responsibility. “Okay.”

* * *

  
  


The twisted knife feeling in his stomach hadn’t gone away by the time Tom got home, the torch pulling just enough on his belt loop to remind him of its presence. He paced around his room, phone in hand. 

He needed to text something. But what? He was supposed to act normal, like it was Alex. Okay. So what would he text Alex now? Tom flopped on the bed. This was absolutely impossible. He’d never think of what to say.

The doorbell rang. Tom startled, then lay back down. He was too wound up. It was probably just a package. 

His phone buzzed with a text from Alex, asking if he was home. He sat bolt upright, clutching the phone as if it might bite him if he let go. “Shit,” he hissed, tumbling out of bed. Another text sent cold bolts of panic racing through him. ‘Alex’ wanted to show him something. Tom tugged his shoes on. “I’m gonna die, he’s gonna kill me, this is so bad.” He paced around the room a few more seconds before replying that he’d be right out. 

What could he do? He already had MI6’s tracker. He had his phone, but Julius would think of that. He could take a knife, if he had one. He did not have one. It probably wouldn’t help him much anyways. Tom brushed the wrinkles out of his uniform and headed for the door.

“Hi, Alex!” Tom was already cringing behind the plastered on Christmas card smile. The words sounded fake and forced, and he just hoped Julius had spent too much time focused on becoming Alex to pay him much attention. 

The boy on his doorstep looked perfectly at ease, like he’d been past this threshold thousands of times. “Hey. Ready to go?” Tom faltered. Maybe he’d just been wrong. But ‘Alex’ didn’t act like there was anything off, and the real Alex would have been concerned if he’d heard what he called Tom’s clearly-hiding-something voice. Tom just hoped Julius wouldn’t read too deep into it.

“Totally. Born ready. What did you want to show me?” It hadn’t occurred to him to think about that yet. Probably Julius wasn’t going to show him anything, just kill him once they were alone. But what if he did have something to show him? What if it was Alex’s body? Tom didn’t know what he’d do if Julius had already killed him. He wished he looked around the house for a knife.

‘Alex’ smiled mischievously and nodded down the road. “It’s a surprise. Keep up!” He swung onto his bike and took off, leaving Tom to fumble with his own and get a late start after him.

He’d always been slower than Alex, but the difference seemed especially pronounced today. Tom didn’t know what to make of it, of Alex breezing effortlessly through tight spaces and small crowds that forced Tom had to focus all his attention on to keep from crashing, of the way his lungs were already burning and Alex hadn’t slowed, of how keeping his attention on Alex meant that Tom couldn’t pay attention to the route and was becoming very thoroughly lost. No. He was not Alex. Julius. Alex would have been looking behind him, making sure Tom was an acceptable distance behind and would have let him catch up if he wasn’t. This wasn’t Alex. 

But it looked just like him. Tom couldn’t deny the desire to just forget all of the little things that bothered him, strike them off as paranoia. So what if MI6 had agreed with him that Alex had been replaced, there he was. This was just like any other day. 

And that quiet acceptance was a sudden lightning bolt of inspiration. That was what the woman with the peppermints had said to do, to pretend everything was normal. He didn’t need to do any spying if he didn’t even need to pretend. This was a totally normal day, and he was out with his friend Alex to see something cool he’d found. He should be thrilled, not scared. This was going to be awesome. 

Tom pushed harder, not quite catching up but narrowing the gap enough he could look around and pay attention to their surroundings. They’d gone to an older part of the city, centuries old brickwork peeking through modern paint and signs. He hadn’t been around here much, but he could recall his mother wanting to go shopping at a particular fabric store somewhere on this street. There was a bus stop near it, there would be a map there. He could find his way even if something happened to his phone. Perfect. Spying was going great so far. 

Alex came to an abrupt stop in an alleyway and Tom dug his heels into the ground to keep from plowing into him. He was panting and couldn’t look up immediately. They’d stopped by heavy wooden doors of a cellar. Wherever they were going, this was it. Before Tom finished catching his breath Alex slammed him against the wall and pressed a weird smelling cloth over his mouth and nose. Tom lashed out wildly, catching Julius in the ribs with a blow that wouldn’t have knocked over a garbage can. The darkness at the edges of his vision crawled inwards and suddenly overtook him. 

* * *

  
  


When Tom came to, he could see nothing. The darkness and cold around him were so deep that if it hadn’t been for the radiating pain in his leg he would have thought this was the afterlife. He tried to push himself off the cold stone floor, only to realize that whatever was wrong with his leg wouldn’t let him do that. He checked his pockets to find that Julius had indeed taken his phone.

He flopped back down on the floor and tried not to cry in frustration. He could use MI6’s tracking device, but calling in help would tell Julius there was help available and he’d never find Alex. Though it looked like he wouldn’t have found him anyways. Julius had seen him as Alex’s gullible friend and had been spot on. He hadn’t even been doing this for more than a few hours and he’d royally screwed it up. 

Tom stared upwards, waiting to see a ceiling that did not resolve itself into view. What could he do now? Calling was out. He wasn’t going to go through all this and still lose his best friend. He could try to open the door, but that would take moving to it with whatever Julius had done to him. He reached down to feel the part of his leg that hurt. It was twisted wrong, the bone inside broken. Tom bit down the rising nausea. Okay. It was fine. He wouldn’t move it and it wouldn’t hurt worse and it was fine. 

He had to keep thinking. Waiting seemed like the most likely thing to get him to Alex- why else would he be alive still unless Julius wanted to use him against Alex somehow- but waiting was bad because obviously Julius planned to use him against Alex. Alex would have been able to get out of this. How would he do it?

Alex would already have a plan and be halfway through executing it. Alright. So he needed a plan. Tom could feel this train of thought going in circles. The tracker on his belt loop was getting more appealing. 

Oh. It looked like a torch. Maybe it worked like one too? He unclipped it and fiddled around with it until a soft beam of light clicked on. 

The ceiling was low. He was in a root cellar, maybe, it was almost empty now at any rate. Empty except for the person sitting against the wall who startled away from the light. 

“Who’s there?” They’d spoken at the same time, and neither one answered the other. Tom brought the beam of light down. 

The other captive was a wreck, haphazard slash marks crisscrossing his face. There wasn’t an inch of him Tom could see that wasn’t bruised or bleeding, and he was chained to a pipe in the wall. He squinted, trying to see around the light. Tom flicked it away from him. “Sorry.” 

“Tom?”  _ Oh. _ He really was an idiot. He shifted, sitting up as best he could.

“Alex?” The other boy moved again, pulling slightly against the chain. Even in the dim light Tom could see he was shaking. “Alex!” 

Okay. He could do this. Just crabwalk, kind of, that should be alright. It hurt his leg to do, but with effort Tom managed to haul himself beside his friend. He reached out tentatively, wanting to make sure he wasn’t just imagining him but not wanting to scare him any more. 

Alex pulled him into a hug, all but collapsing against him. “I thought he killed you.” His voice was strained and raw and Tom didn’t want to think about how much he must have screamed to make it sound like that. He wrapped his arms as tightly as he dared around him. 

“I thought so too. I mean, I thought you...” Tom buried his face in Alex’s shoulder. “I was so scared.”

Alex was still shaking. “Me too.” He was quiet for a while. Long enough for Tom’s heart rate to slow back to resting pace. He hadn’t realized until now how terrified he’d been that he wouldn’t find Alex at all, that Julius cared more about replacing him than making sure he knew he’d been replaced. “He’s going to kill us. When he gets back with Jack. That has to be what he’s waiting on.” 

“Oh!” Tom pulled away from Alex and reached for the torch. He pressed down on the lightbulb until it clicked. “There. Er, it’s a distress signal. I got it from MI6.”

“MI6? Really?” There was a note of pain in Alex’s voice and it occurred to Tom that it must hurt to talk with his face cut like that. He decided to explain as much as he could so Alex wouldn’t have to ask.

“Yeah, I went to them to get help when I realized he wasn’t you. They weren’t super helpful,” he added. Alex snorted, falling against Tom so his head rested on his shoulder. “They said Julius wouldn’t talk no matter what, so the best chance of finding you was for me to stay close to him and see where he went. I didn’t need to do much, Julius lured me out here. That’s pretty much it, I only noticed you were gone a few hours ago. I’m sorry.”

“I’ve only been here a day,” Alex mumbled into his shirt. “‘S’not bad.”

Julius had done all this to him in a day. Tom took his hand, running his thumb across the scar he hadn’t found on Julius. There was another cut layered on top of it. How many scars was this going to leave? “I’m still sorry. I’ve been completely useless. I was onto him and I still did exactly what he wanted!”

“Bet he didn’t want you telling six where I am.” 

“That’s true.” Tom threw his head back against the wall in sudden frustration. “Peppermint lady knew this would happen.” Alex burst into pained laughter, his chest heaving with the occasional sob. Tom tightened his grip on his hand. “Are you okay?”

He nodded first, then shook his head. “I missed you.” 

“I missed you too.” He had. He always missed him, spent every mission sick with worry and homesickness, would have stayed in the hospital with him if he hadn’t been pushed out the door. “You’re gonna have to stop being a spy now, Alex, I can’t do this again. This whole spy thing just absolutely does not work for me.” 

“I think you did pretty good. Doubt anyone else noticed I was gone.”

Tom was shaking his head before Alex finished. “No, couldn’t be. He’s terrible at being you! He’s got this real menacing vibe, and he can’t do that thing where he smiles and everyone else suddenly thinks the world’s this beautiful wonderful place, and for fuck’s sake he ordered milk from the cafeteria, Alex, you know how awful that is! No, I’m sure everyone noticed.”

Alex’s hand tightened around his own briefly. “I love you.”

Tom froze. Had he imagined that? Was Alex delirious? How badly had Julius hurt him? Or was he serious? He couldn’t be.

Apparently Tom had not mastered the spy art of not giving things away. “I mean it, Tom,” Alex said, voice stronger this time. “I love you.”

Okay. He had definitely not imagined that one. “I love you too.” An unexpected burst of dread gripped him. What if MI6 didn’t come like they said they would? They wouldn’t leave him and Alex to Julius, would they? What would they do?

He couldn’t walk. He didn’t know how badly Alex was hurt but it was pretty clear he wasn’t going to be getting away from the pipe without help. If Julius came back before MI6 got there, there wasn’t a lot they could do. 

They’d protect each other as best they could. That was it. Just the two of them and a distress signal that wasn’t getting them help very fast, and that was going to have to be enough. 

Alex’s breathing evened out into a pattern of disrupted sleep. Tom leaned against him. Being knocked out had made him tired, which he thought wasn’t fair. If he was going to be forcibly unconscious for a while, he really ought to have benefitted from it. Regardless, tiredness tugged at his eyelids and Tom fell into a similarly restless rest.

* * *

  
  
  


The cellar doors slamming open was not how Tom would have chosen to start the day. He jumped and blinked in the harsh sunlight. Alex was on his feet, tentatively in a defensive stance. A set of heavy boots came down the stairs, accompanied by a low voice. “Cub? That you?”

Alex relaxed, collapsing back beside Tom. “Yeah, I’m here.” 

The man shone a torch, much bigger than the one Tom had been given, around the cellar. “Harris?”

“Yep,” Tom answered. He looked over to Alex. His bruises looked darker in the brighter light and Tom almost wished it would go away. “Friend of yours?”

“That’s Wolf.” He seemed totally comfortable now. Whoever Wolf was, Alex clearly trusted him to get them out of there. 

“Great name.”

“Right?” 

Wolf knelt down beside them and examined the chain keeping Alex in place. “Okay, we’ve got bolt cutters in the van, you two wait here.”

“Nah, I think we’ll head out on vacation now,” Tom said without thinking. Alex snickered. “Just gonna go globetrotting for a bit.”

“Oh, god, there’s two of them,” Wolf grumbled as he climbed out of the cellar.

He was still alone when he came back. “Where’s everyone else?” Alex asked.

“Snake’s on leave, couldn’t get back in time, Fox is with Jack in case the little brat comes back- we were talking with her about it when he came in, he saw us and bolted. Eagle’s in the car keeping a lookout. She’s convinced he’ll come back here, I think he’s probably out of the country.” Wolf cut the chain loose and helped Alex to his feet. His stride was a little unsteady but at least he could walk. Tom definitely couldn’t and braced himself to be picked up. 

Instead Wolf drug him up too and slung an arm around his shoulders so he didn’t have to put weight on his leg. “Somebody needs to tell Jones to quit recruiting teens, this is getting out of control.”

Tom tried to suppress a squeak of surprise. “I’m not a spy!”

“Well, you’d better tell Jones that when you get out of the hospital then.”

Alex was waiting for them by the exit, doing a very poor job of hiding his laughter. “You need a code name.”

“How about Fawn? Or Kit.”

“Don’t I get a say in this?”

“Kit’s good, better tell the others.” 

“I’m not a spy! Alex!”


End file.
